by Snihur, Erin
* * *
“I don’t understand! Why must we leave Kulaz now? Amina and I have worked things out,” Maarku tries to explain as Haseem paces in front of the small desk in their hotel suites private study.
In the distance, Maarku can faintly hear the sounds of the early afternoon traffic of Kulaz’ capital city. No doubt from the noise something spectacular was happening outside of the hotel. Perhaps a show to honor Amina’s crowning. These types of celebrations had been going on for quite some time. Like their Sheikha, the people of Kulaz were quite passionate.
Maarku’s mind drifts to the night before, but instantly halts when he hears Haseem’s words.
“Amina. Picture. Paparazzi.”
“Wait! What?” Maarku asks, now fully focused on Haseem.
Sighing in frustration, Haseem walks over to the windows overlooking Kulaz and points down to the bottom of the hotel, “Someone saw Amina entering the hotel last night and it’s leaked to the paparazzi. They are having a field day outside. Already there is speculation that you and Amina spent the night and are involved in some sort of affair. Lisette’s agent has caught the story and is making a scene in Paris claiming you are cheating on her! Khalid is furious and has ordered me to return you to Aman.”
Like some petulant child, Maarku inwardly growls and then shakes his head, beginning to pace now in Haseem’s stead, “I’m not going back. Amina and I are not going to hide our relationship just because of a thoughtless rumor.”
Grabbing the remote for the office TV, Haseem presses the button until a global news show comes on, featuring a photo of Amina entering the hotel, no doubt from the night before. Another photo surfaces of he and Amina at the dinner the night they’d officially met. To Maarku’s shock, another photo appeared of he and Amina in the local market. He and Amina were so close as they gazed at something in one of the stalls, it appeared as if they were kissing or involved in a romantic moment. The news anchor called the news story, the scandal of the year.
“The newly crowned Sheikha of Kulaz, Amina Aqila, is not a secret wallflower anymore, thanks to billionaire playboy and Prince of Aman, Maarku Majeed. Sheikha Amina was seen out late entering Prince Maarku’s hotel last night and has yet to leave the hotel and…”
But before the anchor can finish her statement, movement beyond the screen draws her attention and she begins stammering out a different response, “Sorry about that, it seems we are receiving exclusive footage of Sheikha Amina fleeing the scene with her bodyguard. Officials from the palace have yet to report on this matter. Take a look at this video we’ve just received of Sheikha Amina leaving the Midas Hotel.”
Maarku’s nerves prickle with awareness and he watches as the screen switch to a poorly taken video of Amina in her brown cloak and hijab and Alexander as he rushes her out of the hotel’s loading entrance and into a darkly tinted SUV. As the SUV pulls away, Maarku can hear the sounds of reporters shouting at the car, asking all sorts of questions, ranging from asking how the Prince was at lovemaking to when they would be married and if this was the first time Amina had been caught involved in a tryst.
“Bloody hell,” Haseem growls and in an instant he’s on his cellphone radioing the private jet to finalize all flight procedures.
Ignoring him, Maarku exits the study and enters the living room. He can still smell her vanilla scent and it leads him on a trail back to his bedroom. Empty. Just like his heart.
Scanning the room, Maarku shakes his head and slams his fist against the headboard of the empty bed. She had left him. With not even a note to let him know why. Shaking his head, Maarku collapses down to sit on the edge of the bed, her scent filling his nostrils as he does so.
Maarku isn’t sure how long he stays there. His mind dull and his chest aching. Haseem’s shadow fills the doorway.
Maarku doesn’t even acknowledge the man as he slowly approaches.
“We need to leave, Maarku. Now.” Haseem pleads, his tone brokering on no excuses.
Goodbye, Amina, I will never forget.
24
Amina had never been on the receiving end of a media scandal. Leaving the hotel had been utter chaos. Reports banged on their car windows and some even tried to stand in front of the car. Alexander had military personnel surround them in an instant and they were jetting off towards the palace.
As she enters the palace, Amina is whisked up to her quarters, dressed simply with her crown on her head and escorted into her throne room. All rose as she entered and Amina instantly felt the weight of the world atop her shoulders.
Taking a seat in her throne, Amina waited until everyone else had taken their seats before beginning, not sure where to start, but decides to start at the beginning.
“I want a full investigation into who has been following me and taking photos of me during my private time,” Amina orders and Abrar rises from his seat, looking contrite and disappointed.
“Does it matter any longer, your Majesty? The Crown is a laughing stock.” Abrar seethes as his glare intensifies.
“I don’t care for your tone, Abrar. Are we so far less advanced than the world that a woman is not allowed the same pleasures of life as a man?” Amina hisses back and stands.
“You have made a mockery of the Crown! You will have no prospects for marriage now!” Abrar cries, earning an agreeing hum from a few of the council members present, though some just stare in shock at Abrar’s defying words.
“And who makes an order of a Sheikha that she must marry in order to keep her Crown? My father did not make such a law before his death and I have scoured our laws from top to bottom and discovered no mention of such restriction,” Amina laments, earning a few understanding nods from nervous looking councilors who watch the spectacle.
“It is about propriety and an example you set for our people, your Highness. You cannot expect our people to continue their peaceful ways if they see their Sheikha gallivanting about with man after man like some American party girl!” Abrar cries out, insulting her and gaining a few gasps from those present.
Not waiting for her to respond, Abrar continues his anger fueled speech, “I must insist that you accept my nephew’s proposal! It is the only way we shall save face from such a scandal. We can simply release a statement to the press that you were not meeting the Prince of Aman there, but in fact meeting Sahl who offered his hand in marriage. The other photos are non-sequential and can be brushed aside as nothing more than a Sheikha showing a guest around Kulaz’ capital. As it stands, the Prince will not make a statement, as he has already fled back to Aman.”
“What?” Amina asks, breathlessly, “What do you mean he’s left for Aman?”
The doors to the throne room burst open then as Amina’s question leaves her lips and Alexander enters with a few armed military personnel, startling the other councilors into standing up and backing away in shock.
“What is the meaning of this?” Abrar shouts as two guards surround him and grasp him by the upper forearms, holding him still.
Approaching her, Alexander bows, his eyes gleaming, “Your Majesty, I apologize for the intrusion, but I was unable to reveal the nature of what I discovered this morning without find proof first.”
Unfolding from behind his back, Alexander holds out a few sheets of long papers. On the back of each page is a copy of her father’s royal seal. Amina is shocked at the sight and as she accepts the papers, Abrar cries out, seeing what Alexander has in his hands right away.
“Where did you find that?”
Alexander turns away from her and glares at Abrar as he explains, “It would seem that after your father named you as heir, he revised his Last Will and Testament. Should you remain unwed by the time of your twenty-fifth birthday, the Crown and all of its power, shall be rightly yours, free of any restrictions that a husband could place upon you. Whereas if you were to marry before turning twenty-five, your husband would be named Sheik and ruler of Kulaz in your stead, as a way to ensure a mature ruler was named.”
Flipping t
hrough the pages, Amina shakes her head in confusion, her head screaming as shouts of anger and confusion rise up from counselors who clamor to read the documents and from Abrar who cries that it is all lies.
“Where did you find this?” Amina breathlessly asks Alexander through the sounds of uproar.
Nodding to Abrar, Alexander grunts, “In his chambers. I was informed by an anonymous tip that his Lord Advisor had nefarious purposes when it came to the well-being of the Crown. As well, one of my men found poison hidden in Lord Abrar’s bathroom. Untraceable and lethal. A maid came forward upon our search and revealed she was asked by Lord Abrar to slip it into your father’s tea the night of his death. She has been arrested and awaits your judgement. I believe Lord Abrar discovered your father’s wishes in his Will and wished to take control of Kulaz through your husband should you be crowned Sheikha.”
Struggling in the guards hold, Abrar crumbles to his knees, sobbing and pleading with her, “Your Highness! No! I would never do such a thing against the Crown. You must believe me! I only want what is best for you and our people!”
Alexander snorts and turns back to Amina, “His nephew, Sahl, has also admitted to the plan. Once you were married, Sahl was to give more power to Abrar and then you were to mysteriously die, leaving no heir and a grieving Sheik with only an advisor to rule Kulaz.”
Finding it difficult to breath, Amina collapses back into her throne as chaos erupts all around her. Councilors argue amongst themselves as Abrar pleads for his life claiming he is innocent. Gritting her teeth as her head pounds, Amina stands.
Gazing about the room, Amina grabs the decorative vase that sits on her desk by her throne and heaves it across the room, startling everyone into silence as it shatters against the wall.
“Silence!” Amina shrieks as it shatters and falls to the ground. Feeling like that vase, Amina’s body shakes from the adrenaline and her glare falls on the sobbing advisor, Abrar.
“You pushed the Prince down the stairs, didn’t you?” Amina asks, her voice deadly and calm.
Shaking his head with renewed vigor, Abrar clutches his fists to his chest, “No, your Majesty! That was all Sahl. He was jealous! I swear, I only did what I did for you!”
Sneering in disgust at the way his voice lies, Amina turns away from him to stare at her throne as she hisses to Alexander, “Get him out of my sight. A former trial will be launched and he and his nephew shall pay for their crimes.”
As Abrar was dragged away, he cried out, thrashing and spitting as he hurled his angry statement Amina’s way, “The Prince was using you! Can’t you see that? If he wasn’t, where is he now? He certainly isn’t going to man up and be with you during the scandal of the century, now is he? You are no great Queen. You are nothing more than a castoff whore who is only good for what’s between her legs.”
Not letting the horrid man see how much his words affect her; Amina waits until Alexander has corralled everyone out of the throne room to break down. Sobbing into her hand Amina reaches up and pulls her crown off her head.
Staring at it, Amina’s mind instantly goes back to her crowning, only a few days ago. She had seen the way Maarku had stared at her during the entire production. Was everything a lie? Had he really left her? Fled to Aman due to the scandal? Was he disgusted with her now that news had been revealed their liaison?
“Is it true? Did he really leave?” Amina’s sobs quiet as she whispers to her crown.
“I don’t believe it was willingly, your Highness,” Alexander murmurs behind her, “According to my contacts in Aman, Sheik Khalid has ordered Maarku be brought back to Aman due to the scandal.”
Shuddering, Amina closes her eyes and throws her crown to the floor, ignoring the clinking of it as it hits the tile and slides down the steps of the thrones’ dais.
“What should I do now?” Amina whispers to her throne.
At the sound of Alexander shuffling on his feet at her back, Amina turns and watches as the older man leans down to pick up her crown and extends it out to her.
“Tell the truth. He’s a determined man. If your relationship is meant to be, then his determination will meet no barrier,” Alexander suggests.
A wave of emotion sores through Amina as her mind drifts to Abrar and the evidence against him, “My poor father. He must have been in such pain.”
Seconds of silence tick by and Amina caresses the throne that has been in her family for centuries. Sucking in a courageous breath, Amina turns and raises her chin in the air.
“Call the media. It’s time for Kulaz to see what their new Sheikha is capable of.”
25
Maarku was avoiding his brother. Every time a servant came to request Maarku’s presence in the throne room or his brothers’ private study, Maarku would have his maid tell the servant he was not in his chambers. This palace had been in their families control for centuries and Maarku had learned the many places it afforded its inhabitants to hide.
Now, sitting before his mother in her private chambers as she fussed over the tea and sweet treats that had been brought for them to enjoy, Maarku was beginning to become agitated. In her chambers, Maarku felt his nerves begin to eat away at him as his foot starts to tap in distress.
“Mom, I don’t need a cup of tea,” Maarku mutters as his mother holds out a cup to him, no matter his spurn.
“You are too pale. The tea will help,” His mother laments. Pushing the cup into his hands, his mother begins pouring herself one.
Smiling over her teacup, his mother, Fatima, shot him a knowing look. Setting the teacup back onto the tray, she leans forward and whispers conspiringly, “You brother and Amelia are at a doctor’s appointment. So, you shouldn’t have to disappear into the rafters of the palace until at least three o’clock.”
Feeling sheepish, Maarku sets his cup aside, ignoring his mother’s disapproving gaze as he does so and sighs, “What’s up, mom?”
Shrugging, his mother selects a small cake and takes a bite before murmuring to herself about how delicious the flavor is.
“Why should there be something up? Can a mother not spend time with her son?” Fatima finally asks, appearing hurt, but Maarku knows the truth. His mother wants something. Probably to know what went on in Kulaz and with Amina.
Shit, Amina. It had only been a few days, but the urge to go online and look for any recent sightings of her had been killing him. Kulaz had been silent lately, though the paparazzi hadn’t been. They clamored for more information on he and Amina’s affair and though Khalid had done good work of keeping the paparazzi away from Aman’s royal family, it wouldn’t last. Already, there have been reports of some more greedy reporters trying to sneak into the palace to get a statement out of his younger siblings and Khalid’s pregnant wife, Amelia.
Khalid had been furious after the latter. From his hiding spots, Maarku had heard his brother’s furious orders and threats to Haseem’s life for not keeping Amelia better protected.
Sighing, Maarku shakes himself of his thoughts and gives his mother a questioning look, “What do you want to know, mom?”
Smiling slightly at his softening tone, Fatima’s face seems to beam as she makes a show of adjusting her colorful hijab around her face.
“What is she like?”
Rolling his eyes, Maarku groans, “Mom…”
“Maarku! I have a right to know about the woman my son is in love with!”
Pushing himself out of his seat, Maarku begins to pace as he protests, “I am not in love with Amina.” More like obsessed.
Damn it, Maarku thinks as his mind drifts to the way he kept the green fabric she’d come to him wrapped in under his pillow at night.
Scoffing, Fatima waves her hand towards his now empty chair, “Sit. And believe me, I know love when I see it.”
Collapsing back into his seat reluctantly, Maarku gives his mother a withering stare, “Because you were so fortunate to marry the love of your life?”
Clucking her tongue, his mother seems to ignore his commen
t, “You forget, without your father, no matter how much of a cruel and greedy man he was, I wouldn’t have had you or your siblings. I am eternally grateful to Allah for my children.”
His mother smiles and reaches across the space between them to squeeze his fist, “I’ve seen the photos. It’s all your sisters and Amelia talk about. They think you two make a very attractive couple.”
Rolling his eyes, Maarku stares down at his hands, fidgeting together in nervousness, “I don’t think that a relationship is possible.” Not after you ran away like a coward.
Shrugging again, Fatima reclines in her chair, “Your brother thought the same thing about Amelia and look at them now! Happily married and awaiting the birth of their first child. What makes your relationship with Sheikha Amina any different?”
“It’s exactly that. She is a Sheikha, a Queen! And I am nothing more than a spare…” Maarku growls as his voice trails off.
“You know your family does not think of you as such?” Fatima sighs sadly and nudges her sons’ foot with her own, gaining his attention, “When Khalid demanded you leave Aman, he was heartbroken. You are his brother. It wasn’t because of this mission to Kulaz that he wanted you back, it was because he missed you and loves you that he wanted you back. I believe the thought of becoming a father opened your brothers’ eyes. He finally understood why you did the things you did.”
“He has a funny way of showing it,” Maarku mutters as he recalls the way he was able to hear Khalid searching the palace with Haseem for him only yesterday.
Before Fatima can protest further, the doors to her chambers push open and a red-faced Khalid is rushing in, followed by his beautifully pregnant wife, Amelia and Haseem, who seems to be very concerned for the pale and very obviously pregnant Sheikha.
“Khalid stop!” Amelia cries out. Khalid ignores her and Maarku rises to stand as his brother grabs his shirt by the collar.
“So nice of you to finally appear, brother,” Khalid growls and drags Maarku away from their mother and her sitting area and instead slams Maarku against the wall. Maarku struggles to keep a hold on his brothers’ fist, to keep from getting choked, but fails as his lungs constrict against the tightness of his collar.